Restaurant Review - Window to Indonesia
Bali Indah adds new flavor to Atlanta’s ethnic lineup
Mady Yata has one of those calm, spiritual demeanors that can, at first, ruffle Westerners. He greets tables at Bali Indah, his 4-month-old restaurant, with palms pressed together in the prayerlike wai gesture, a typical greeting in his native Bali. His expression is soft and his voice gentle. He constantly issues a gracious “thank you” whenever you engage him in conversation.
This man exudes so much kindness as he advises newcomers on what to order that cynical souls might eye him suspiciously. Is this just an act? Does he retreat to the kitchen and curse his customers’ ignorance? Does he go home after playing Mr. Nice Guy all day long and kick his dog to vent his frustrations?
After three visits, I’m convinced Yata is a genuinely benign person. He’s made it his calling to awaken Atlanta to the lure of fragrantly spiced Indonesian fare, an underrepresented cuisine in this town. And thus far, he’s off to a commendable start.
Ethnic explorers will find lots of unfamiliar dishes to trounce on, though I observed many furrowed brows examining their menus, not certain where to jump in. Satay is always a safe bet. It’s a simple rendition here. The marinated meat (chicken, beef or lamb) has a gutsy grilled flavor and is served with a mildly sweet, soy-based sauce. It’s a welcome departure from the cloying peanut sauce that so many Thai restaurants have adapted for the American sweet tooth.
Similarly, the peanut sauce draped over gado-gado, a dish hijacked by the ’70s vegetarian movement, doesn’t taste like diluted Jiffy. Hallelujah. Instead, the sauce is a coarse blend of roasted peanuts with garlic, soy and citrusy notes that refresh the palate. It doesn’t throw much heat, though. If you’re a chili-head, opt for the pecel sayuran, its spicier counterpart.
Yata brings a Balinese sensibility to his curries that distinguish them from other Eastern cuisines. The spices are less gruff than Indian curries, yet more vehement than those from Thailand. Gule Kambing, a curried stew with supple morsels of lamb and vegetables, has a dulcet tang that coddles the meat rather than imposing its spicy will over it.
You start to gamble when you deepen your exploration of the menu. Beef rendang, simmered slowly in coconut milk and spices, is unfortunately dry the night I try it. It reminded me of family dinners where Mom overcooks the Sunday pot roast and the whole table falls politely silent, endlessly chewing and chewing. I hope it was a fluke.
“This is the best fish in town,” Yata beams, perhaps trying to pull a Jedi mind trick on us when we ask about the marinated grilled fish. The fish arrives at our table with a nice crispy exterior, but it’s taken too long to reach the table and is room temperature. Bummer. Yata makes the same proclamation about the duck roasted in banana leaves. Though hot, the duck is lackluster, tasting more of dark turkey meat than the moist glory that duck can be when it’s properly prepared. He needs to either rethink the recipes or become stronger with The Force to win me back to these two.
Indonesia is known for its rice dishes, but my one stab at Bali Indah’s combo fried rice with chicken, beef and shrimp finds a greasy, sticky mass that doesn’t warrant more than a few bites.
Just as likely, though, you can stumble upon something unexpectedly wonderful. When we question our server about soup, he suggests an off-the-menu Betawi-style soup that wows us. Its light coconut broth is lively with the scent of coriander and ginger, and there’s a tingly trace of pineapple as the taste lingers on your palate.
We randomly pick a shrimp dish called sambal udang bumbu Bali because it sounds like the stage name of an exotic dancer, and we are rewarded with plump shrimp in a feisty sweet-sour sauce. Thanks, bumbu!
Empek-empek Palembang — small fish cakes made with glutinous rice — falls in the category of intriguing, inexpensive culinary experiences. They were gummy and chewy, and distinctly fishy, and yet I ate the whole plate. I probably wouldn’t order them again, but for $3.99 I discovered something new. No harm in that.
Dessert? Three words: black rice pudding. The pudding — creamy black rice bleeding purple into its drizzle of coconut cream — may look like something out of a “Survivor” challenge, but it’s subtle and soothing. Other sweets, including sweet potato cakes and mung beans in coconut milk, are more challenging. A nondescript fruit salad of apples, pineapples and oranges is tossed in a palm sugar sauce with chili flakes. I would have instead preferred the fruit poached in the intensely sweet ginger tea I ordered alongside it.
The boxy dining room, for now, doesn’t look much different than it did when the restaurant was Sea Siam, with one exception: There’s a mammoth flat-screen TV at the back of the room ceaselessly broadcasting costumed Indonesian dancers who flash wild expressions at the camera.
But Yata is quick to tell you he has a strategy. He’s plotting a renovation in the next few weeks. He plans to add more dishes to the already extensive menu. He’s scouting for new serving dishes. Underneath his humble manner lies a focused businessman. By the looks of the growing crowds — a mix of the city’s Indonesian community and curious novices — his restaurant just might develop the following he’s wishing for.